The Cat in the Deerstalker
by Silencebeyondthestars
Summary: Molly Hooper, the pathologist of St. Barts Hospital goes missing and the perplexity of the case drives Sherlock almost mad when he starts searching for her. Unbeknownst to him she's much closer to him than he would ever begin to think but he just keeps on missing the obvious. (Supernatural themed Sherlolly AU, set during the whole series )
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:**

-I've had this story in my head for some time now and so decided to write it down!

-Begins a year before the Study in Pink.

* * *

Molly Hooper has always loved cats but _this_ is ridiculous.

The _incident, _like she always refers to it, happened when she had started at her new position in St. Barts hospital at the pathology department. On her first day, Molly's boss Mike Stamford had warned her in advance that she would have to occasionally work alongside a man, who the police force at Yard consulted in their cases and who detective inspector Lestrade would bring in with him that day.

After listening to the most odd stories about the man, who according to Mike called himself a consulting detective _(What ever that was),_ she reassured him she could deal with the man since her training in medical school was for a public clinic which situated in the so called under belly of the capitol and there she had gotten used to dealing with all sorts of people.

A few hours later she wasn't so sure of herself anymore. When the tall man swooshed into her lab in his long dark coat, one look at him had made her loose all that confidence she had ever gained through the years. She felt her knees wobble as the detective stopped only few inches away from her and peered down at her with a stealthy gaze that seemed to go straight through her. Somehow Molly managed to look him straight into his eyes that she couldn't decide were green or gray.

"Doctor Hooper I presume." It wasn't a question.

Molly felt the last drops of her sense leaving her brain at the sound of his deep voice.

"Uhh. Y-Yes. I'm Holly Mooper. I-I mean Hooper. Molly! Doctor Molly is. N-Nice to meet you."

Great. She had always found it hard to translate her thought process into words but this was ridiculous.

The man raised his eyebrows as his eyes darted her figure up and down. What he was looking for must have been clearly easy for him to figure out since as soon as the deep blush appeared on her cheeks, thanks to her stumbling over her own words, the man turned away from her to walk towards the door that lead away from the lab.

He stopped at the door and turned back towards her. "My name is Sherlock Holmes as you must now from Mike. Detective Inspector Lestrade will be here any minute and we want to see the body of Justine Farrow. She was brought in after stumbling down the stairs at her home and breaking her neck. I already texted Lestrade to join us in the morgue."

Without waiting her reply he marched through the door to make his way to the hallway and to the lift that would take them down to the morgue.

Molly felt rooted to her spot as she had hard time grasping what had just happened.

The door opened again.

"I'm sure you're not totally incompetent since you have managed to secure a job at one of London's leading hospitals but your behavior right now is telling something completely opposite. Are. You. Coming. Or. Not? He articulated.

She woke up from her retrieve as she stuffed her thoughts back into her mind for later analysis.

"S-So what is it exactly that you do Mr. Holmes. What's a consulting detective?" She finally stuttered when the awkward silence in the lift became too much.

"When the police is out of their depth, which is always, they come for me for help."

"I thought the police didn't hire civilians?"

"They don't _hire_ me!" He sounded insulted and Molly blushed again. She came to regret her blunder as the man decided to make it clear to her just how qualified he was for the job. He began to lecture her all about what he called "the science of deduction" and to her horror he decided to use her as an example.

"There's hair all over your bottom of trousers so you have a cat, the eye bags suggest a lot of stress and also after seeing your work schedule I gather you're workaholic with no much personal life, no boyfriend -Why not a girlfriend? Well that seems a no brainer after all what just happened at the lab - no many friends and no siblings or at least they live far away and you aren't close to them. Your necklace has a picture of you and your dad in it. Based on how young you are in it suggests he died when you were a child and your feminine clothing tells me you had a woman figure in your life who you took an example from so mother is likely still alive. Based on your outfit you don't spend money on clothes or other concrete things so you spend it most likely to pay rent for a nice flat in a well regarded area. Did I miss anything?"

"N-no you didn't. I can see now why they come for you."

"You're not upset with me with what I said?" He asked little curious after seeing no signs of anger on the small woman's face.

"No. Why would I be? It would be silly to get worked up since it's all true." She turned her face upwards to look him in the eye but couldn't do it very long before blushing again and so she averted her gaze back down. She missed the little smile on his face.

When Lestrade, who she found absolutely nice and friendly from the start, arrived Molly quietly listened Sherlock explained the situation of the deceased to the older man. Molly was astonished how it was possible for him to deduce the killer (yes, he had already managed to figure out that it was a murder, with examining the body for only a few seconds) just by looking at her eyelashes. Molly released her breath she didn't realize she had been holding when he finished. She had always valued intellect in men more than their physical attributes and she believed she had just met the most sharpest man she'd yet. And what was positive, Molly had managed to read out the victim's autopsy report to him with only stuttering a few times and only when she had felt his gaze landing on her.

A half an hour later the curly raven haired man, followed by Lestrade, left the morgue as swiftly as he had entered her lab, with a promise to be back tomorrow to run a few tests in the lab and Molly couldn't let herself deny him despite the absolute unprofessionalism of an outsider using the hospital's machinery. After all she had just handed him a bag full of fingers he had requested for his experiments, when Lestrade and Mike had had their backs turned on them. She figured that him using the lab equipment wasn't nearly as bad.

Now she sat in her office, the paper work on the table, just staring at the white wall in front of her. _"You're a thirty two years old grown up woman, not some giddy teenager who has just experienced her first crush." _she repeated. It was like a mantra as she said to herself over and over for the rest of the day. She was determined to prove it to Sherlock Holmes but apparently she also needed to prove it to herself as well because the last time she had stuttered so badly in front of a male, was fifteen years ago while she was in sixth form and Richard Colbert had asked her to a school dance.

Unfortunately for Molly it was going to be six years until she was given the chance to speak with the consulting detective again.

To this day she still didn't know how it had happened because the whole evening after leaving from work was still one big blur. She remembered hopping into the tube carriage but after that the next thing she could recall was when she had woken up on her own bed the next morning.

When her alarm clock woke her at 6 the first thought she had, when opening her eyes, was that somehow Toby, her five year old tomcat, had gotten the door to her bedroom open during the night and then had jumped onto her bed to sleep next to her. That was the most likely reason she now saw two furry paws in front of her face.

"_Hold on. Toby's fur is ginger. Not light brown." _She thought to herself

"_A stray cat must have somehow gotten inside."_

"_But I didn't leave the window open last night."_

And that also didn't explain why all of a sudden during the night her pajamas had become over twice as large. She easily wriggled out of her cherry patterned cotton shorts and white sweat shirt, that were draped over her like a tent, but then she looked around the rest of her bedroom and she realized it was _she_ who was now smaller.

Until now she had been on her stomach and when she put her hands against the mattress to lift herself up to her knees, instead of hands the two paws did the motion and lifted her up. There were now hands anywhere.

"_Oh I get it. It's a dream and I have paws like cats. How weird._ Let's see what else has my brain has conjured in my sleep."

Apparently she also had legs like a cat. In fact, on further inspection she noticed her whole body was covered in the same light brown colored fur and when something soft came to touch her nose she realized it was a tail. To have a better look she stood up and it was automatically all on her four limbs instead of two. _"Well this feels odd."_

To her amusement and horror when she opened her mouth at laugh at her silly dream, the only thing that came out was meowing. Her front paws covered her mouth instantly and that managed her to loosed her balance so she came straight down onto her face belly. _Umph_

When she rouse again curiosity got the best of her as she wanted to see her face as well, so she made an attempt to get out of the bed. She swallowed when she looked down at the floor. It was quite a drop. But this was after all a dream and cats always dropped on their legs.

"_Here goes nothing"_ She thought and jumped.

The moment her legs were detached from the bed she did what she had seen Toby doing millions of times. She leaned forward, braced her legs straight underneath her but couldn't help but close her eyes. Instead of landing gracefully, like her Toby always did, her legs slipped from underneath her and she hit her belly and chin against the rug.

"Ouch! This certainly is the most realistic dream I've ever had!"She shrieked but only more meowing came out. Suddenly she remembered that it was impossible to feel pain in a dream but she pushed the thought far back in her mind because if it was true she didn't want to think what that meant in her situation.

Molly stood all on her fours and wiggled her body to check if anything was broken. When all was still intact she made her way to the body sized mirror in the corner of her room.

When she saw herself she yelped. What greeted her in the mirror was indeed a cat.

From time to time Molly had considered getting herself another cat to keep Toby company while she was at work and so had done research to see what type of breeds there were. Now when she looked herself back at the mirror she gathered she was a ragdoll based on the semi-long hair and the soft and silky coat of her fur.

She was light brown, just like her hair had been, and in her chest, tummy and face the fur was lighter than in the rest of her body. To top it all she also had a luscious tail that seemed to symbolize the length and volume of her own long locks. Next her gaze moved on to her eyes. They were still the same brown like they had always been but the shape of her pupils were nothing like before. She also noticed that despite being an adult cat she was smaller than the typical ragdoll at her age as it seemed her petite size had played a part in her transformation.

Molly couldn't help herself but spent at least twenty minutes in front of the mirror doing all sorts of movements with her new form because it was absolutely mesmerizing how everything she made her body do, the cat in the mirror obeyed.

After she finally got bored she decided to wake her self up doing all the tricks she usually did when she wanted to wake up from a dream.

When she had pinched (in this case bit) herself a million times, had thought about waking up a million times and had jumped off the bed and had landed on her belly for the same amount of times Molly was now getting frantic since all the signs were now pointing towards the fact she wasn't indeed asleep but completely awake. What's more it all just seemed too real to her unlike any other past dream. Also she couldn't control her surroundings like she knew how to do when dreaming.

"Wake up! Wake up! WAKE UP! " She yelled again and again.

"_This is not happening. How can this be anything but a dream! If this is reality then it must be a prank. Yes. That's what it is. Calm down Molly. While I was asleep someone, most likely Meena, dragged me to some place that's been built to look like my bedroom but only in bigger scale and she dressed me as a cat and…Oh who the hell I'm kidding. Now one could have done this. At least not without magic something…_

Molly's thoughts were interrupted by her mobile ringing on the night stand. Molly gathered speed and jumped on to her bed to see who was calling.

Mike Stamford's name read on the screen.

Hurriedly Molly tried to answer the phone with her paw but only managed to send it over the edge of the table and on to the floor.

She rushed after it immediately and with effort she managed to receive the call.

"Molly?" Her boss' voice came. "Are you alright? You didn't come to work this morning."

"Mike! I need help!" Molly yelled but to again nothing human came out of her mouth.

"Molly? Hello? Are you there?"

He was answered with more hysterical meowing

"Toby?"

Molly blushed when she remembered how he had asked her yesterday if she had any children or a partner and she had shook her head and then had awkwardly blabbered about her cat for fifteen minutes.

"You must be an intelligent cat since you can answer a phone. But where's your mistress, huh?" He sighed. He was about to say something more but then came to the realization he was actually talking to a cat so he hung up.

But it was no Toby. The cat in question was in the living room and had woken up to the sounds of another feline in his territory. He pricked up his ears and hissing he approached the bedroom door. Molly was glad she had shut it last night since Toby had the bad habit of approaching new feline acquaintances with less than politely and based on her poor cat skill she would most likely lose the fight.

After a five hours she was still locked in her bedroom since there was no way she could open the door by herself in her current state. Also Toby in the living room kept her from trying to leave.

Now Molly had come to the realization this was indeed reality but couldn't understand the 'how' of it all. She was a scientist by heart and so had first tried to decipher the problem logically but there was now solution to preposterous fact that during the night she had transformed into a cat.

The other side of her, the one that adored Harry Potter, Doctor Who and other fictional stories, told her she was either turned into a cat or her and some cat's bodies had shifted, leaving only minds stay put. She really didn't want to think about the possibility that somewhere out in the world her body was behaving like it was a cat. Luckily based on her looks the former solution was more likely.

It was indeed a haunting aspect that science, which she had dedicated her life to, wasn't able to solve everything in the existence.

"_Or maybe I got into an accident last evening and now I'm in a coma and my mind is conjuring up this all. Although if this was a coma I would have hoped I'd be in the 1970's solving crimes with Gene Hunt."_ She sighed but dismissed the option since this all did seem too real to her and she wasn't experiencing any hallucinations.

What ever Molly thought of her situation at the moment, one thing was for certain. Even though she didn't know what had caused it, she was determined to figure out what or who had done this and she would make them turn her back again_. "But I'm not able to do it without help." _She thought and a picture of a tall man with sharp cheekbones came into her mind. _"That's it. I'll go for him for help. If there's one person who can help me I'm sure it's him_. _I gave him a full bag of fingers so he owns me a favor."_

A hope like any other suddenly filled her. There was just the tiny little problem left. How to convince a man, who happened to held rational thought and science all above other, that the stammering pathologist he had briefly yesterday met was now a cat.

* * *

- I ended up choosing the ragdoll breed for her cat- self since they are so beautiful and I thought it would really highlight her lovely nature. They also have semi long fur and that reflects her hair as well.

- Kudos if you understand the refrence to Life on Mars. I really loved that show.


	2. Chapter 2

**Huge thank you from all who reviewed, followed and read! Keep the feedback coming. It does make me write faster!**

* * *

It was starting to approach six in the evening and Molly's stomach was growling loudly. She had tried opening a window in her room so she could escape through the fire ladders down to the road beneath but so far her efforts had been resulted only in bruises and soreness in her front paws.

As a last resort Molly was now rolling a vase from her nightstand to her bed as her plan was to sling it through her window using the comforter. She had wanted to escape without causing any damage to her windows but she figured there wasn't no other choice unless she wanted to starve to death.

Just as she had caught the edge of the comforter in her mouth voices came from outside of her front door. She drop the cloth, ran to the bedroom door and pressed her ear to it.

"Neither Raoul nor I have seen her leave the building Doctor Stamford. I can show you the CCTV footage but it tells the same story."

"And she did come home yesterday?" Mike's worried voice echoed through the doors

"Just little after seven. I always say to her she works too much. "

"Molly!" Mike's voice was louder now as Wilson, the building's door man had opened the door for him.

"Ms. Hooper are you in here?" Wilson joined the choir.

Molly heard Toby meowing in the living room and running to the bathroom to hide from the strangers. When the steps got louder she herself bolted, taking refuge in under her bed.

Molly figured it was possible that if the two men found her they'd take her alongside with Toby to an animal shelter and it would be impossible for her to escape there. She planned on hiding and when their backs were turned she'd run through the still open front door outside.

Her bedroom door opened and from her spot she saw Mike's feet coming in.

"Molly?"

"She wasn't in the bathroom or in the guestroom." Wilson said coming from behind him

Mike sighed. Although he hadn't known Molly for long she had come highly recommended by a professor who had taught both her and him in medical school. He had told Mike that Molly was one the most trustworthy people there was and who took her job extremely seriously. That had made Mike drive to her flat after his work to check op on her.

"We have an indoor camera just near her front door and when I checked it showed her not leaving after coming home yesterday. The cameras outside also doesn't show her going out through the fire ladders. Do you think we should call for the police?" Wilson said scratching his head.

"I think we should. It's just isn't possible for someone to vanish into thin air."

"I hope she's alright. She's a good girl."

Mike took his phone out and speed dialed Lestrade. "Detective inspector Lestrade? It's Mike Stamford from St. Bart's pathology department. Look I'm calling about Doctor Molly Hooper…Yes the one who started yesterday….Well I think she has gone missing…I know not enough time has passed but listen, the doorman told me that after coming home yesterday she hasn't left the building nor her flat since and now I'm in her flat and she isn't here…There are fire ladders outside but the CCTV footage doesn't show her leaving through them… I know it's not possible but that's what I'm telling you….Yes I think it's best if Sherlock would come as well."

Molly laid on her stomach, her head resting on her front legs. She listened Mike's conversation with the detective inspector and her heart leaped at the sound of the consulting detective's name. She was glad he was coming since she had no idea where he lived.

Lestrade arrived first with three of his officers who he instructed to search the building and question all the other people if they had seen the pathologist.

"I phoned Sherlock. He was in Camden but is on his way." Lestrade said coming in. "He sounded rather enthusiastic about this." The detective inspector grimaced

"I'm glad you came." Mike shook his hand.

"Of course. She seemed like a lovely girl when I met her yesterday. Now Mr. Wilson would you please go collect all the CCTV footage from yesterday and today for us."

"Sure thing." The man said and disappeared through the door.

"Is her belongings still here?" Lestrade asked Mike

"Yes. Her cell phone is in the bedroom and handbag with her purse and keys in it is in there as well."

"That means when she left she didn't go voluntarily."

"Wilson said that he went through the tapes and saw no one entering or leaving her flat. Not from inside or outside." Mike shrugged

"Is there another way to enter to this flat?"

"Not according to Wilson."

A few minutes later Wilson returned and now Toby who had gathered his wits and had ventured out from the bathroom and into Molly's bedroom where he smelled the other feline.

Molly gulped as she saw him coming hissing towards her. She loved her cat very much and felt ridiculous that she was now so scared of him. Toby wiggled his back and charged. Molly screamed, ran to the living room towards the men and in spur of the moment jumped into Sherlock's shoulders just as the man entered.

Automatically the consulting detective's hands went to wrap her from her back so she wouldn't fall off. Molly's cat sense of smell breathed in his after shave and coffee which he had just consumed, mixed with a cigarette smoke. He smelled just like she had pictured he would.

"I thought Molly only has one cat." Lestrade said looking at Molly

"This one is Toby based on his collar." Mike said having captured still hissing Toby and now holding him at arms length. "I'll lock him inside the bathroom. The other one seems more friendly."

Sherlock smoothed Molly's back but after seeing the two men's slightly amused expressions he detached the cat from himself although it was a tad difficult since it's nails were grasped in his coat and then he lowered the still shaking feline back down.

"Well who are you then?" Lestrade murmured as he knelt down to Molly who wondered if she should back away from him. It was all so strange to be treated like this. As though she was again a child. When Lestrade stretched his hand to scratch her behind her ear Molly bolted behind the sofa.

"Quite an animal charmer you are Sherlock if he lets you to hug him but doesn't let me even pet him." Lestrade grinned

"She. It's a girl."

"Molly must have been sitting her for her friend then." Lestrade said and rouse back up again."

"I don't think so. I already called her contact list through when I was trying to catch her this morning and none said they had given her a cat to look after." Mike answered

The consulting detective looked at Molly and hummed in agreement. For a rare moment in his life saw but did not observe.

When Sherlock started walking around her living quarters in order to gather clues Molly's stomach growled and Mike went into her kitchen to fill Toby's food plaits. He took another plait from the cupboard, filled it too and took it to bathroom for him. Molly stood in front of her plait that was filled with cat food, looked down at it and sighed. Swallowing her pride she bend her head down to sniff it. Despite her being physically a cat now she didn't found the smell enticing. But after almost twelve hours without eating anything she couldn't be picky. When Mike came to back to kitchen to clean Toby's plait he laughed when he found the cat drinking the water like humans did instead of licking it with it's tongue.

Five minutes later Molly was sitting on her sofa while desperately thinking about what to do and Sherlock had finished his search. The three Lestrade's officers had also returned by now but with no news since not one other occupant had seen the pathologist.

"I want to see the CCTV footage now." Sherlock exclaimed frustrated as he hadn't found anything useful in the flat.

"Mr. Wilson how did Ms. Hooper seem last night when she came home?" Lestrade asked suddenly while Sherlock inserted the disc to Molly's DVD player.

"Just fine. At least externally but now that you mention it there was something odd in her behavior but I'm sure it's nothing serious…"

"Everything out of normal is important. What was it?" Sherlock paused the DVD and turned his eyes from the screen towards the man.

"Always when she comes home in the evenings she asks me about my day and wishes good night but last night she didn't say a word. She just calmly walked to the lift. I thought nothing of it since she sometimes can be deep inside her head thinking and then she doesn't notice anything around her."

"Could be something." Sherlock murmured and the men started going through the security camera footage

"Meow!" The three men turned towards the cat who had been dead silent this entire time.

"What on earth is that cat doing?" Lestrade asked flabbergasted.

All this time Molly had been pondering on how to tell the men she hadn't disappeared anywhere and was in fact right under they noses the entire time. Then a light bulb went on in her head when Sherlock had opened her laptop to go through it for clues. When he had abandoned it she took over. While the men were busy staring at the TV, with her paws she clumsily opened Microsoft Word and hurriedly typed in everything she thought of. It was quite hard with her paws pressing multiple keys at the same time but in the end she managed it with only few misspellings. When finished she yelled at the men.

"Sorry kitten but looks like you are still far away from getting you novel published." Mike laughed when he came over to her and just saw pigs Latin written to the program. Molly was too shoed to move when he let his hand roam petting her back. She had no idea what was happening. To her the writing was clearly English but apparently he saw something completely different as did the two other men when they too looked at it as Lestade closed the computer for later analysis.

After the men had gone through the tape two times more they gave up.

"Take the disc and send me a copy." Sherlock ruffled his hair after nothing had caught his eyes in the footage.

"Okay. I'll also let our experts check them for anything suspicious occurrence." Lestrade replied.

"Mr. Wilson where does the other door man live?" Sherlock then asked turning to the door man.

"With his daughter and her family only a few blocks away. He used to be a guard at some bank after he retired there then came to work in private buildings."

"Lestrade."

"I'll get my men bring him here."

When that lead also turned out to be unfruitful the two doormen left and now the clock was already ten so they decided to continue tomorrow. Even Sherlock needed some time off to think as he declared he would now return to Camden to solve his previous case as according to him he'd been inches away from catching the criminal before Lestrade had phoned him.

Sherlock put on his belstaff and with a promise to call the detective inspector tomorrow left the flat.

"I'm going back to the station to open a case and to tell more people here to scavenge the whole place tomorrow." Lestrade said to Mike putting his coat on.

"What should we do about these cats?" Mike asked him not noticing that the female cat had disappeared out of the front door only inches behind the consulting detective as he had left.

* * *

"Why won't you leave me alone!?" Sherlock bellowed when he had jumped off the taxi in Camden and to his surprise had found the cat following him out of it. He had failed to notice it's presence in the car before because he had been deeply thinking about the pathologist's disappearance. He had no desire to go all the way back to Molly's flat because of a some feline and he now tried to shrug it off his trail. To his bewilderment the cat kept following him where ever he walked.

"What do you want from me? Go away!" The people in the hearing distance turned to look at him but when they saw who the follower was they only snickered and continued their way.

After some more yelling the cat wasn't going to give up so he just ignored it for the rest of his walk to the victims flat. Molly meanwhile was determined to not let the man out of her sight. Since she didn't know where he lived she was going to follow him there.

The pathologist's disappearance investigation had offered Sherlock a good break from his previous case and now he was able to go back to it with new stamina. The puzzle pieces in his head click as he realized it wasn't the woman's boyfriend who was the killer – it was her brother.

He turned around quickly and started walking towards the victim's brother's flat which was only a few block away from the crime scene. To his annoy the cat did a u-turn as well.

When Sherlock had reached the right building he entered the flat without knocking and saw that the man inside was in the middle of disposing some highly discriminating evidence.

Thomas was startled to say at least at the sudden appearance of the same consulting detective who had scared him with his deductions earlier that day.

"Mr. Holmes? To what I owe this pleasure?" He said threateningly and Molly's heart beat faster.

"Would that be your bloody shirt you are tucking into the plastic bag? After you hit your sister with the bat the blood from her head must've splashed." Sherlock said cooly and narrowed his eyes at the clothing in Thomas' hands.

To Molly's horror the other man pulled a gun from behind his back and pointed it straight to Sherlock's head. How idiotic it was of Sherlock to have no weapons or backup and just march into danger like that. Maybe she should consider again about asking him to help her if he was this thick.

"Not very smart of ya to come 'ere with out any back up, was it?" Thomas said and was clearly thinking the same thing as Molly.

Sherlock had to admit that maybe he hadn't think it straight through when rushing into the killer's flat but was vaguely sure he could get the killer lowering his weapon with just talking to him.

Molly had to do something and suddenly she had an idea. After this Thomas didn't think of her nothing else than a harmless cat so she was able to walk behind him without causing any suspicion at all. She saw Sherlock, who was facing the man, watching her behind Thomas and looking at her surreptitiously.

"I wouldn't necessarily say that." The consulting detective said and marveled at the cat. Sherlock had no idea what it was doing climbing up the bookshelf.

"Well I don't see any cops with ya!" Thomas now shouted still pointing the gun just above Sherlock's eyes.

Molly had now reached the top of the shelf and without thinking she revealed her claws and jumped straight to the man's head. Thomas, completely surprised, couldn't see a thing as Molly was clinging to him with all she got. Thomas was now screaming in pain and when his both hands went to grab the cat the gun wasn't pointing at Sherlock anymore. He saw his opportunity and launched ahead grabbing the gun from Thomas' hand.

On her turn Molly let go of Thomas, ran aside and watched the two man wrestling on the ground. The gun had now slipped away from the criminal hand and was laying a few feet away. Preventing Thomas from grabbing it again Molly charged and glided the gun far away with her nose. It turned to be an easy battle for Sherlock and soon the other man was knocked out of consciousness. Slightly panting he speed dialed Scotland Yard and twenty minutes later they were escorting the now conscious Thomas to the police car.

"Too bad we only have police dogs or else we would hire you in an instant." A police officer smiled down at Molly. "You're a lucky fellow to have such smart pet." He turned back to Sherlock.

Sherlock hadn't been planning on telling the officers he'd needed a cat's help to catch the criminal but the scratches on Thomas' face were quite telling.

"Not mine. I don't know whose it is."

"Oh well in that case I recommend you to take it to an animal shelter. The streets are no place for it to live."

Sherlock hummed. He figured it was only fair after what it had done for him.

Molly looked at him worried and started backing away but Sherlock quickly reached for her and grabbed the cat to his arms as he sensed her desire to run.

In the cab she started panicking.

"Sherlock! It's me Molly. Please don't take me to the shelter!" She cried to whole way but of course the man had no idea what she tried to say. To him it only sounded like high-pitched howling.

When they reached the nearest shelter they entered and Sherlock lowered her to the counter holding her with both hand so she wouldn't run away.

"_Okay Molly. Last chance"_ She thought as she decided to borrow another page from Toby's book. She only hoped this one would work better than the jumping.

When the woman behind the counter was asking Sherlock some questions Molly lifted her gaze to look at the consulting detective straight into his eyes. She laid her front paws against his chest, widened her eyes, made her mouth tremble and let out tiny squeaks. Sherlock lowered his eyes to look at what on earth she was doing. When she saw him gulp she took her eyes off of him and as a final effort she rubbed her head against the his chest.

The woman behind the counter looked at the man and smirked. During her time at the shelter she had seen this happening countless of times.

"Still sure about this?" She asked while knowing the man had lost the game.

Sherlock didn't say anything and only looked at Molly. Why not let her stay with him for awhile? The cat was evidence and had after all been present in the flat when the pathologist had gone missing. Then he also figured she could be quite useful to him since he liked to prattle about cases and maybe a living creature would be better at getting his brain moving than his lifeless skull. It would just be temporary until that Hooper girl was found.

"Would you like to borrow a carrier for her?" The woman asked not waiting for his reply for her previous question

"I don't think that's necessary. She doesn't seem to be very desperate to get a way from me." Was Sherlock's only reply as he lifted Molly off the counter and put her down. He said goodbye to the still snickering woman and walked to the door, the cat following him.

"221B Baker Street." He said to the cabbie after he had catch one and him and he and the feline had climbed in.

Molly sat in the seat next to him and looked at the buildings they passed by. At this moment she felt more calm than before during these twelve hours although there was still a growing fear inside of her about why her writing hadn't made sense to the men earlier that day.


	3. Chapter 3

Molly followed Sherlock up the stairs of the dimly lit apartment building of 221 Baker Street. She'd sighed in relief when the steps hadn't turned out to be overly high since it was still a little struggle for her to make use of her all four limbs, which happened to be rather too short for multiple of other things as well.

Her tail held high, so it wouldn't get caught in her paws, she patted after the tall man who didn't bother slowing down his pace as he was jumping up two steps at a time.

Earlier in the cab Molly had tried to picture what type of a place the man next to her would call his home. Based on number of things she had observed from him during their brief acquaintance, like his fashionable sense of style and his analytical personality, Sherlock Holmes struck her as a very straight forward, no nonsense guy, who also practically screamed posh. That's why she would have thought to find his place as a simplistic and modernly decorated loft with clinical white walls and every object in their proper places.

Molly couldn't have been more surprised and happy to be proven wrong.

To be honest she had been so convinced of her assumptions that her jaw almost hit the floor when she reached the top of the stairs. "Clinical" was the last word to describe the place.

The living room, which the front door first opened to, consisted of comfy and mismatching furniture which already gave the place a homely feeling, with the different wallpapers on the walls only enhancing it. Then to top all that the state of disarray was present in every room but it wasn't too overpowering so you'd call it a mess. Molly found it actually suited with the quirky interior design choices (or rather the lack of them).

The contrast between the man himself and his home really was amusing.

Meanwhile when Molly was exploring the rest of the flat, having figured out there was no way her host would give a tour to a cat, Sherlock had shrugged off his Belstaff and was now scavenging through his cupboards and drawers for things that would help him get started on this new outlandish case.

Knowing his urgency (and afraid of him coming to pester him in the middle of the night about it) Lestrade had already sent Sherlock a file to his email consisting of the CCTV footage so in no time at all, while Molly was sniffling an odd looking spill on the kitchen floor, the wall behind the sofa was already covered with maps, photos and other documents related to the missing pathologist.

When Molly returned from upstairs back to the living room she found Sherlock sitting on the floor in front of that wall, his laptop on his lap and writing something hurriedly.

Molly lay down on the carpet, her eyes still on the peculiar detective. Today had been one of the most tiresome in her entire life and now she felt it finally catching up on her. Her eyelids were as heavy as ton of bricks but before she would give in Molly wanted to find a more comfortable place to sleep.

Bed of course seemed the most obvious choice but the room upstairs was to far away from the detective and sleeping in his bed felt like an intrusion so she instead settled on the leather arm chair in front of the fire place (she had tried to sleep in the other armchair too but for some reason didn't find it as comfortable) and draped the blanket, which she had dragged from the red chair, over herself.

Before Molly fell asleep she thought of her own home and if she would ever see it again. She felt her chest tighten at the thought of all her stuff being removed and the flat sold or rent forward. It was likely though, since it was highly unheard of for cats to own their own flats.

Tomorrow, properly rested and her head clear, she was determined to find a way to reveal her true identity and return home as soon as possible.

After he finished typing, Sherlock rouse from the floor stretching his stiff muscles and his head aching. The tall man patted to the kitchen to make himself a pot of strong black coffee that would help with his sleep deprivation. Sherlock knew he needed to sleep that night too since he hadn't done that for a few days now and the trickiness of the case definitely needed all his brain power.

Waiting for the coffee to brew he visited his bedroom and changed into his pajamas and dark blue dressing gown. Then going back to the kitchen, grabbing his only clean cup from the cupboard he poured himself a cup of coffee and marched to his living room and to his favorite chair.

Already completely forgotten about his new house guest, he then plants his ass right on Molly's small sleeping figure on the chair.

"Meooww!"

Waken up abruptly by a strong force squishing her to the chair Molly's instinct made her reveal her sharp nails and slash the threatening object with all her might.

"Aarghh!"

Shooting up from the chair like a rocket, while managing to spill most of his coffee to the floor, Sherlock cursed aloud his own stupidity with not leaving the feline to the shelter.

"Now look what you stupid animal have done!" He bellowed, after settling his cup down to the mantelpiece, and touching his bottom where his silky dressing gown had multiple tears on it.

"Meow!"(Your own fault that!") Molly meowed irritated

He continued feeling his arse with both of his hands and miraculously found that his skin had avoided the same fate than his dressing gown but his pajama bottoms and even his boxers had some small marks on them.

Snarling, he took off the dressing gown, dumped it to the nearest bin and retrieved another one (this one burgundy in color) from his bedroom. Sherlock then took his cup from the mantelpiece, refilled it with coffee again in the kitchen and carelessly put a piece of paper towel on top of the one he had spilled. Mrs. Hudson would clean it later so what was the point of him to do it now.

When he was about to sit down to his chair he noticed to his annoyance that the damned cat had continued sleeping on it.

Holding the cup with his right hand, he grabbed the feline from its neck and gracelessly dropped it to the floor.

Molly hadn't even yet fallen asleep again, when she felt the detective's fingers digging into her neck but without having enough time to react, Molly found herself on her stomach, sprawled on the floor.

"Aren't cats suppose to always fall on their four legs?" He asked, the amusement leaking through his cool tone of voice.

All he got as a reply was a death stare and rather annoyed sounding meowing.

For awhile the two were locked in a battle as they both kept standing still and glaring at each other.

"Stay out of my chair."He gritted through his teeth, sat down and begun to sip his coffee.

Molly, much less taken with the man although after only living with him for half an hour, looked around thinking where to lay down next. Catching enough speed she jumped to the red chair and patted around a few times before slumping down.

Molly laid still, her paws under her head, watching the man as he stared into the distance with his elbows perched on the arm rests of the chair and his hands placed under his chin, his index fingers touching his cupid bow lips. Sherlock seemed to pay no attention to her and she gathered he must be very deep in thought. She closed her eyes and soon was fast asleep.

"Meow!"

Her dreams were cut off again when she felt something soft landing on her and after opening her eyes the only thing she could see was darkness. Apparently Sherlock had thrown the blanket, which had been left under him, at her. Settling the large cloth over her body she fell asleep, this time hopefully being the last one tonight.

Sherlock stood in the hallway of Molly Hooper's apartment building. Well not the actual one but the one which he was building in mind palace. He opened the white door and stepped inside.

Despite the small space of it the layout cleverly made it seem bigger. When you went inside from the front door the flat was shaped like a 'U' so one couldn't see the entire flat at once. Little after the entrance, the kitchen was on the right side in a small crook and the dining area was in the first corner of the flat coming from the door. On the left side of the entrance there was the bathroom and behind it in the other corner was Molly's living room right after the dining area. The end of the living room had a sliding door on it, which was at the same wall as the front door, and which opened to her bedroom.

Instead of decorating the flat with a style straight out of a magazine all the things in there were individually picked pleasing only her mind so none of the objects really matched one another. The most noticeable furniture was large bookshelf in the opposite wall to the front door and the piano in the corner of the living room which was clear from the stuff that cluttered the other objects, so she obviously played it often.

He could tell that all of it was bought from vintage boutiques and second hand shops. It was her way of rebelling against the consumerism of today but also because she liked to save her money and use it on other things.

After spending the time there tonight Sherlock could tell she was very tidy person but not very organized (he figured she got enough of that in work) so every nook and cranny was filled with stuff like old magazines, papers, sketches and drawings. Still she knew very well where everything was if needed.

Molly had painted all the walls bright blue as it reminded her of the ocean, which she seemed to love based on the sea themed paraphernalia, like the countless shells on her windowsills. Like the sea shells the other smaller decorative objects came from her travels as well. The walls were covered mostly with posters of bands and movies, the only paintings were made by her friends and one by herself.

Wilson, the door man, had told Sherlock that Molly Hooper had lived in the flat for eight years now and that first she'd rented the place but when she'd saved enough from her earnings she'd bought it for herself three years ago.

These things were not what Sherlock really was interested about, but they did help him to know better what kind of person Doctor Molly Hooper really was and it was important information so he stored it inside his mind.

After the flat was done he could now move on to the more exciting bits and one was focusing on the clues the flat held which would lead him to find the woman.

This was indeed a deliciously puzzling case and to think he hadn't even remembered the woman when Lestrade had called him to tell him about the disappearance. It had taken a few minutes of searching in his mind to bring back the details of their meeting because there had been nothing interesting about the feeble woman whom he had first met the previous day.

Sherlock came from his mind palace after hour and a half. He sighed as the few leads he had managed to gather earlier in the evening had dried up after a closer examination. He still had few ones left but he couldn't follow them now without investigating the flat more thoroughly and let Lestrade's men run their tests.

He loathed the idea that he would further need their help but the disappearance was so baffling that Sherlock had no other choice. God he hoped that Anderson wouldn't be on duty tomorrow since the last thing he needed was him ruining the evidence and interrupting his work.

Sherlock stood up from his chair to go the bathroom to run his usual bedtime rituals. He might sleep and drink most irregularly but he never let his personal hygiene suffer.

Well not since he had last time left the crack house, but that was years ago.

He came back to the living room fifteen minutes later and promised himself an hour more within his mind palace before forcing himself to go to bed. He had to leave early to the flat since he didn't want anything to be done there without him being present.

If it were left to him Lestrade and his men would already be in work at the flat but apparently there were things called "private life" and "working hours" that prevented them from being at his beck and call on 24/7 - a fact that he had learned many times over. He rubbed his right cheek unconsciously, remembering the last time a little too well.

Sherlock went over to the wall which he used as his pin board despite the many exasperated complaints from his landlady, and started talking to himself as he muddled through the gathered evidence that was placed there. Muttering to himself he walked around the small space, turning around sharply each time he changed direction.

No this wouldn't do. His brain seemed to be on a loop and he needed someone to talk to. A sounding board. Yes that was it what he needed.

Like many times during their acquaintance Sherlock marched over to the fireplace to seek help from his friend Billy, but when he reached his hand to grab the skull he saw something that better.

A _living_ sound board.

It couldn't really talk back but it was still better than the empty stare that he got from Billy.

Molly woke up when two large hands circled around her body and felt them lifting her up. Groggily she opened her eyes and peered at the detective who had laid her against his chest. _Odd_. She thought. When Sherlock held her she didn't feel herself suffocating at all despite how big he was compared to her or how tightly he was holding her.

When he started mumbling his deductions Molly realized what the man was doing. Every time she was writing her research papers she usually talked to Toby in effort to be able to think better.

His right arm placed across her belly and his left one supporting her side as the palm of it petted the top of her head, Sherlock returned to his earlier task. Molly kept peering at him as he talked and soon Sherlock couldn't help but look at the cat back. Somehow it looked like the cat knew what he was talking about.

_Ridiculous_. He scoffed every time he'd thought he saw it nodding or shaking its head, until the next time it did so again and he begun to wonder. His thoughts however seemed to fly much better than usual and that's why he soon forgot its strange behavior.

Molly meanwhile listened to him incessantly and was so concentrated on his words that she didn't even realize she was nodding and mewling at the detective. When he focused back to the wall she soon was lulled asleep by his baritone voice.

Sherlock held the cat tightly to his chest and stroked it while he thought. He knew that when a person disappears without a trace often to most important details are hidden in their actions and words from the days before they vanished. That was why the next day he needed to trace the pathologist's every step before she had gone home from work the last time she'd been seen.

He needed to examine out properly every possible clue, because there weren't very many to begin with, and what was as important, was to talk with the people she was closest to and who had seen her before her disappearance because they could tell him if her behavior had changed recently or if there were someone who she didn't get a long with.

With these thoughts Sherlock was positive that he would find her, because after all it was impossible for someone to vanish into thin air. He then dropped the cat to the floor, not noticing it had fallen asleep, and marched to his bedroom.

Molly was sprawled on the floor, having grown very angry at being woken up so rudely, she hissed at him and before he could shut the bedroom door shut, she slipped inside.

If he was going to behave this way Molly felt no shame in jumping onto the bed after she'd made sure he was asleep first. After digging herself under the blanket she curled up to a ball next to him and soon was asleep again, this time managing to sleep continuously until the morning.

And if during the night Sherlock pulled her small warm body closer to him and hugged her like a teddy bear, all the more better.

* * *

**A/N:** Huge apologies for not updating for three months! That is an embarrassingly long time but the summer kept coming in between. Also thank you for your reviews and favorites! I think that supernatural AU's aren't _really _popular in this fandom so your encouragement has been really nice.

Ps. I'm on tumblr under the same name as in here (Silencebeyondthestars) so come and meet me! Prompts, headcanons and comments are happily accepted.


End file.
